


Be My Bad Boy

by KivaEmber



Series: Deadly Songbird [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Idols, Established Relationship, Everything is the same as canon except for two things, M/M, Secret Relationship, akechi is an idol instead of a detective prince, akira arrives in tokyo a whole month early, an idol who has a lot of pent up anger issues sheesh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25558432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: Akira was supposed to be some cute, no-name barista. He was sassy, wasn’t dazzled by Akechi's true identity as an idol and actuallylookedathim. Akira was supposed to behis, a safe piece of normality that Akechi could selfishly horde and consume whenever he needed respite from his double life as an ‘idol by day, hitman by night’.Now it was July, four months on, and Akira was so embroiled in every aspect of Akechi's multi-faceted life it was a fucking cosmic joke.or;A slice of life look into the relationship between an idol who moonlights as a supernatural hitman and a high school student on probation who's also a Phantom Thief.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Deadly Songbird [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852117
Comments: 12
Kudos: 343





	Be My Bad Boy

“That’s ugly as shit.” 

“Says the guy who wears argyle sweaters.”

Crow (who was currently _not_ wearing an argyle sweater, and was in fact huddled in a dark hoodie like some common delinquent planning to kick in vending machines) slanted a narrowed glare at Akira. His boyfriend just smiled at him, holding up the bright red and cat-patterned scarf again, as if comparing it to the rest of Crow’s outfit. 

“I think you’ll look cute in it?” Akira tried. 

“Fuck off,” Crow snarled, the effect ruined by his flu mask. 

“Someone’s feisty today. _Mrrrrow._ ” 

“I’ll kill you.”

Despite his threats, however, they ended up buying the cat-patterned scarf. Somehow Crow ended up wearing it through some hypnotic magic he swore Akira possessed, a splash of bright colour in his otherwise bland attire. He didn’t mind it, though. Walking out in public, Crow felt better building up layers between him and the shitty crowd, hiding his face behind lack of makeup, hoods, flu masks, and now ugly scarves, just so he could shop or hang out with his boyfriend in fucking _peace_. 

His _secret_ boyfriend he technically wasn’t allowed to have, due to his contract, but Crow wasn’t planning on doing a full _career_ out of his idol work. Shido pushed for it, as it was the quickest and easiest path to fame, and once _that_ piece of shit was dealt with, Crow was planning on swan diving into anonymity after setting his reputation on fire and pissing on the ashes.

“I’m hungry,” Akira mock-whined as they strolled out into Central Street. They didn’t hold hands, but Akira was so close their shoulders touched, and that was enough for Crow; “You want some Big Bang Burger?”

“I’m not watching you choke down your body weight in burgers again,” Crow grumbled, still sore from losing the last Big Bang Challenge.

Akira rolled with the rejection; “Then Leblanc? I can whip us up some curry.” 

Crow considered, watching people walk by as they stopped near the arcade. There was always a risk in eating out - he had to take off his flu mask and pull down his hood, raising the chances of being identified. So far, he’d been lucky. No one expected Akechi Goro, Rising Idol, to be shoving a giant burger in his mouth while dressed like a scruffy vagabond, so he’d been gliding under the radar so far. 

But all it took was _one_ person to recognise him, take a picture and… 

“Leblanc sounds good,” Crow said tiredly. 

It was the safest option, in the end.

* * *

Crow wondered what it said about himself, that he considered Leblanc more of a home than his own damned (Shido owned) apartment. 

There was just something comforting and cosy about the small cafe, something that helped him lower his guard and ease that constant, tight coil of tension clenching his stomach. Crow was a fucking nobody in Leblanc, known only by the owner and the scant customers as ‘Akira’s weirdo boyfriend’, which was, amazingly, the best title he had ever been gifted. Becoming an idol had made Crow realise what a poisoned fucking chalice public attention was. 

_i shouldn’t have agreed to this,_ Crow thought not for the first time, seated at Leblanc’s counter so he could watch Akira stir the curry pot, _other jobs could have given me enough popularity to delve into Mementos without all these toxic fans and restricting lifestyle..._

Or, maybe the fault lied with Crow leaning too hard into his ‘cute’ persona. Akechi Goro was pretty and polite and oh so cheerful, who never had a bad word to say about anyone and was as pure as freshly driven snow ( _hah!_ ). It was a persona everyone ate up, but it meant Crow could never publicly curse, get a girlfriend (definitely _not_ a boyfriend), do anything considered ‘too adult’ or ‘bad’, lest he wanted a backlash for being ‘naughty’. Every inch of his life was commodified, and Crow was semi-certain that one day he was going to snap during a forced fan interaction after an event and murder someone with his bare hands. 

Crow fed that rage into Loki to fester into something savagely toxic. Woe betide any Shadow who crossed his path tonight when he went into Mementos.

“What’s up?” Akira asked suddenly, looking up from his avid pot stirring. 

“Nothing,” Crow said automatically, then amended; “I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, you have horrible bags under your eyes.”

Crow frowned, “Hey.”

“And isn’t this your first day off in weeks?” Akira lightly tapped his spoon against the edge of the pot, his expression becoming a little concerned, “Don’t you think you’re being worked too hard?”

Crow shrugged, because it is what it is, and let his head drop until it was pillowed in his arms, “The hardship of being an idol,” he mumbled into his sleeves. 

“Hmm,” Akira sounded doubtful. 

As he should, since half of Crow’s exhaustion was _Akira’s_ fault, what with being a Phantom Thief and all. 

It was a strange situation he found himself in, thinking about it. When he had encountered Akira back in March under the guise of Crow, their relationship had kicked off swimmingly _because_ Akira was an outside element of Crow’s batshit insane life. He had never heard of him before (he must’ve crawled out of a very deep cave), wasn’t involved in the Metaverse, and was so low on the social totem pole there was no _chance_ , unless by unfortunate collateral, that Akira would be involved or targeted by Mental Shutdowns or a psychotic episode. 

Akira was supposed to be some cute, no-name barista Crow stumbled upon in this cosy little cafe. He was sassy, wasn’t dazzled by his true identity as an idol, and actually _looked_ at him. Akira was supposed to be _his_ , a safe piece of normality that Crow could selfishly horde and consume whenever he needed respite from his double life as an ‘idol by day, hitman by night’. Crow _liked_ him, genuinely fucking liked him, and now...

Now it was July, four months on, and Akira was so embroiled in every aspect of Crow’s multi-faceted life it was a fucking cosmic _joke_. 

Why can’t he ever have nice things?

Oh. 

Right. 

Because he was fucking _cursed_. 

Crow made some vague, tired noise of frustration into his arms.

“Hey, hey, no need to get grumpy,” Akira chided playfully, “the curry’s almost ready, fussy baby.” 

“Don’t call me a fussy baby ever again,” Crow hissed, lifting his head.

“But you _are_ a fussy baby,” Akira said, with that obnoxious little smirk that made Crow want to punch him and kiss him stupid all at once. He gave the curry pot one last stir before moving away to collect some plates.

A few minutes later and the both of them relocated to one of the booths. Crow supposed they were lucky that Boss was happy to leave the cafe in their hands when they returned from their day out in Shibuya. It was a pain eating in Akira’s attic room, otherwise. 

He took off his scarf and his flu mask once he sat at the booth, pushing his hood from his head to allow him to _breathe_ before digging in. In his current place in society, Crow had eaten in all kinds of high class restaurants and parties, and the buffet spreads at his events were always nicely done. But none of those could ever compete with Akira’s homemade curry. It didn’t make sense, realistically - the ingredients were cheap, bought in bulk at local stores, and cooked in some tiny, average kitchen. 

It shouldn’t be the best fucking thing Crow ever put in his mouth, but it was. Somehow it was. 

Akira, as usual, waited before eating. It used to make Crow a little self-conscious, but he realised it was just Akira basking in self-satisfaction at his food being so obviously appreciated. Crow let him indulge in it. 

“Good?” Akira asked pointlessly. 

“Mhm,” Crow grunted around a mouthful. 

It was always fucking good.

The rest of their meal was done in comfortable silence. Crow scraped the plate clean and leaned back in his seat, dragging his fingers through his hair and adjusting the loose ponytail he’d pulled it back in. Akira kept giving him fond looks he made no attempt to hide, which was - something. Crow avoided them, his cheeks feeling warm, and pretended to be engrossed in the television. 

Some random news segment was playing. Ah, the Medjed threat. 

“Any thoughts on that, Akira?” Crow asked absently, tilting his head towards the television. 

“Mm?” Akira glanced over his shoulder to see, “Oh, that? Not really.” 

One would think being the boyfriend of a Phantom Thief would mean extracting information about them would be easier, but lord, it was not. It felt like pulling fucking _teeth,_ trying to ferret sensitive intelligence out of Akira, stimied by the fact that his boyfriend would become suspicious as hell if Crow feigned an abrupt interest in something he had previously dismissed. 

Alas and alack, he supposed Shido will have to make do with Crow’s piss-poor reports of ‘I keep missing them in Mementos, they’re just so _sneaky!’_. As that was all he could do, what with his other duties of idol work and working down his list of targets. If Shido wanted him to be more proactive about learning the Phantom Thieves’ movements and plans, he should’ve given him a different job, like a detective or something.

“No thoughts at all about them ‘destroying all of Japan’?” Crow drawled, “You’re a bit too carefree sometimes.”

“The Phantom Thieves will deal with them, probably,” Akira said casually, turning back to the rest of his curry. There were only a few spoonfuls left, “Nothing to worry about.” 

_oh my fucking god, i hate you so much, you stupid, beautiful man,_ Crow internally seethed. 

“I envy your boundless optimism,” he deadpanned. 

“You just need to stop catastrophising,” was Akira’s pearl of wisdom, his smile a little mischievous as he finished the last bite of his curry, “It’s bad for your complexion, _Gowo-chaaaan~_ ”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Crow bit out, “call me _Gowo-chan_.” 

Akira’s smile widened into a smirk, his eyes heavy-lidded as he dropped his fork onto his place and leaned forwards on his elbows. It was a sultry look, warm and inviting and drew Crow’s focus despite his attempt to sulk. It was lucky those dumb glasses he insisted on wearing contained his handsome looks, otherwise Crow would be fucked every time he looked at him _like that._

“How about ‘Goro’, then?” Akira murmured, purring over the syllables of his name, “I think we’ve reached that stage, right?”

Crow made a quiet noise, feeling like they were edging over a certain line. He liked ‘Crow’. He liked it because it was linked to nothing about his real life persona or his metaverse one. Crow belonged to Akira entirely, a segment of Akechi Goro that was delicately portioned out - the remains of his still beating heart settled, unwisely, in Akira’s hands. Eventually, Akira was going to crush that heart in his hands when this Phantom Thieves business came to a head and Crow would stop existing, but until then… 

“No,” he said, tugging his hood back up and keeping his gaze on his plate, “Goro is… the idol. With you, I’m Crow.” 

Akira didn’t frown. He didn’t seem insulted. He didn’t sigh or give him a look of frustration. He took the whole thing in stride, as usual. Maybe he understood. Or maybe he was just a doormat. 

“Crow’ll do, yeah,” Akira said, “Hey, you wanna go upstairs, or you ready to go home?”

 _i am home,_ a small, pitiful part of him mumbled. 

“I have nothing scheduled until tomorrow morning,” Crow said, “I can stay until your evil cat kicks me out.”

“Morgana is not evil,” Akira scolded, standing up and taking their plates, “And he doesn’t kick you out. He’s too small for that.”

“He uses my shin as a scratching post and yells at me.”

“That’s how he shows his love,” Akira said unconvincingly, and retreated from the conversation with a mumbled excuse about washing the dishes. 

Crow scoffed. 

Morgana hated him. Crow knew this, because the cat fucking _talked,_ even though he had to pretend not to know that. It was how he learned of Akira’s links to the Phantom Thieves in the first place - the cat was very chatty when the mood struck. 

But, Crow was used to dealing with people who hated him, so he had entered an unofficial cold war for Akira’s affection with the cat, one he wasn’t going to lose because he had the advantage of a) being handsome b) was somehow Akira’s type (he despaired for his taste in men) and c) could kiss him. 

Take _that,_ Morgana. 

Crow picked up his coffee, now lukewarm but no less good, and sipped it as he idly watched Akira wash the dishes. 

It would be easier, if Crow just cut things off here. Akira would understand: he could trot out some excuse of how the stress of maintaining this secret relationship on top of his other duties was getting to him, and he needed a break, etcetera, etcetera, but… that felt like losing, in a way. Akira was _his_ little piece of normalcy, a piece that had gone a little rogue, and Crow found his priorities shifting ever so slightly to the right in an effort to keep it. 

He was going to get his revenge on Shido, but he also really wanted to keep Akira around, preferably not in jail for being a Phantom Thief, and _definitely_ not dead in a ditch somewhere if things really went south. It would be _tricky_ to win this massively rigged game, but Crow was smart and ruthless, and he _hated_ losing. He just needed to think of a clever plan that would let him reap everything as a reward. 

He drained the last dregs of his coffee and set the cup down. 

Shido took everything from him. Crow wasn’t letting him take this last little bit of impossible happiness from him too - even if he had to _flex_ his plan a little. 

Just a little. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is a series bc then i can write in whatever chronological order i damn well please bc i was too lazy to make this a proper multi-chaptered fic. 
> 
> any scenes/specific things you wanna see in this au, don't be shy to hit me up heheheh


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